But You Turned into A Lover
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: Lightning and Hope's relationship may be wrong and sick and unhealthy, but to them, it's the most right thing in the world.


Note: Fic not stolen, just reposted under my new account.

This is one of my shameful OTPs, and as much as I love happy, well-adjusted fluff, I actually like the pairing better when bringing into things how much they seem to be as much lovers as ersatz mother and son, especially when you think about how Lightning can't protect Serah anymore, but Hope is still vulnerable and needs a mother figure. It clicks so beautifully together that a happy relationship seems almost inferior to this mess of complexes. The result, in my mind, would be channeling all of the insane emotions and almost beginning to give into the dysfunctional dynamic.

Title credit to Rod Stewart.

...

Nails tore down Lightning's back, a cry and a moan meeting halfway in her throat and coming out as something else, something indescribable, something that seemed oddly fitting for her situation. When finally their descent stopped, leaving the flesh from her shoulders to the small of her back red, they dug into place, the palms of the corresponding hands seizing her hips, holding onto them tightly, somewhere between the instinct of a lover pulling the other closer and the instinct of a child afraid to lose his mother.

"Yes," she moaned, her hands slamming down into the pillows on either side of Hope's head as she moved harder and faster on top of him, sweat matting her pink hair so it stuck to her face and back, dripping down a little onto the young boy beneath her.

Young boy. It was strange saying those words. Sometimes, they endeared him to her. Sometimes, she felt regret for this, for a boy seven years her junior, halfway through his teens, trapped in the messed up relationship they had. At night though, particularly when her blood got hot and her body got hungry, the words were sweet on her lips, an aphrodisiac. It was twisted and messed up and wrong on so many levels, but the guilt all faded away in the heat of the moment, when his youth and all the dysfunction in their relationship became fuel.

This was a nightly ritual for them now. It used to be sparse, only when the two met, Lightning frequently making the trip over from Bodhum to see him on the weekends. Then she moved to Palumpolum after Snow and Serah's wedding. Hope began staying the night, since their sex was loud and Hope's father was, naturally, still around. Slowly, nights turned into whole weekends, weekends into weeks, and by Hope's fifteenth birthday, he was pretty much living with Lightning. She was back in the Guardian Corps and they were getting along fine with money. Hope handled the goings on of the house while she was at work, and when she came home, they would have supper, talk a little, and somewhere down the line it would devolve into sex. Every time. Without fail. On a rare night, they wouldn't even make it to the bedroom, waking up the next morning embracing on the kitchen floor.

"Oh, Light," Hope sighed, his fingers clutching her harder, her flesh growing red around his nails as they dug in, keeping him right there atop her. When she was close, he felt safe, her body always so much hotter than normal, warming him up, calming him down. Her breasts dangled, heaving with each movement as she did all the work. He just had to lie there, but he was never happy to do that. He knew how much she loved the feeling of nails on her back, or of his head nuzzling against her breasts. Her position didn't leave much room for nuzzling though, but with his eyes falling upon her hard nipples, he had another idea.

He leaned forward, taking her breast into his mouth and beginning to suck on it. Lightning moaned his name, leaning forward to help him, slowly letting his head come down onto the pillow. Her hands pressed against the wall as she kept her rhythm up from his new angle. He had never done this before, and it felt good, but not only from a sexual standpoint.

"Yes, baby, keep sucking." The words came from her mouth totally unconsciously, the result of pleasure, but...

Baby. An interesting word. Was it the term of endearment most people would have seen it as? Was anything just what it seemed to be in this relationship? These were two people, irreparably messed up, it seemed, and how much of their relationship was love as opposed to poison co-dependance seemed to vary by the day. It was a loaded word, appropriate that she would say it as he's sucking on her breast like that.

Again, all of the bizarre emotions swirling around them began to pour into her, her lust greedily eating up every bit of it, growing more perverse as her instincts to protect kicked in. She grew more aroused as the silver-haired teen sucking on her breasts looked less like a lover in her eyes. It was sick, it was wrong, but as the words "young boy" crossed her mind, she let out a moan as if the words themselves had now gained physical properties and could please her by themselves.

What happened next surprised both of them. Hope pushed up and to the side, forcing them into a roll. Next thing the knew, Lightning was on her back, Hope now moving quickly inside her, all the while continuing to suck devotedly. He had never taken charge like this before, but for once he was out to please Lightning in bed, all by himself. To make her proud of him.

He embraced it all as well, took it all in, let the pseudo-incestuous parent-child fixation fuel him bring the sex to greater levels. He was just as twisted as she was.

Lightning moaned as he moved his hips rapidly, his cock plunging in and out of her. Her head rolled from side to side as he danced atop her. His plan worked. She was proud. Oh, so very proud. Hope had assumed total control when previously it was all her. He took all of his frustration and everything she taught him and channeled it into their lovemaking, making her scream his name again and again as she pressed herself tight against him, moaning for him to go faster, to feel his cock pounding her with even less mercy. He was a big boy now, and he would have to use everything he had to make her happy.

But that was precisely what he was doing. He was a good little boy, sucking her tit like that, fucking her so hard, his stray hand scratching along her side with varying levels of strength, sometimes seeming to not even touch her skin at all, but other times digging into her side, making it raw and red. He was ready for the rough stuff now, ready for the comparatively tender lovemaking to give way to pure, animalistic fucking. Even when they would have sex on the kitchen table, it was always rather tender, loving, intimate. Well, intimacy was subjective.

He grabbed Lightning's shoulders, giving her no warning as he pulled her with him off of the bed, and shoved her into the wall. She groaned as her back hit the wall and Hope soon followed, kissing her mouth roughly as his cock slid right back into her, wasting no time in ravaging her.

Lightning whimpered into Hope's mouth, the first sign of weakness she ever showed, and wrapped her arms around him as he grabbed her hips and thrust away, moving so fast it sent more whimpers out of her mouth and into Hope's as their sloppy kiss was fueled by the accumulated angst and passion and misplaced feelings and misplaced roles and everything that was good and everything was sick about their relationship, reaching a fever pitch as each began to see the other differently.

Or maybe not. Maybe in the heat of their passion the masks were what faded away, that it really was the need for a mother on Hope's part and the need for something to protect on Light's side that had become hopelessly tangled in the sexual tension they would have had in another life, with different circumstances, with more years on them. But the world they lived in was as it was. Hope was fifteen, Light was twenty-two, an age disparity that already made for a terribly messed up relationship. Then the complexes came into things, mingling with everything else, binding maternal instinct to the orgasm, the need for protection and affection to a kiss that carried so much more. They were in love, and both would insist they would have been if everything had been better. But tied to their love, forever a part of their every touch and kiss, every word from their lips, every nerve ending lit aflame, was the reality.

And now, having tasted the true extent of their passion of no longer denying the reality of their relationship, the very messed up elements, they found true sensation. Giving in to the aspects of their relationship that were undeniably wrong, but also undeniably a large part of it, broke down the wall. Hope sucking Lightning's breasts like that, her response of "baby" brought the reality of things to the table. Lightning would be more than a lover, but also more than a mother.

"Yes," she cried, tears running down her face now as the lust itself began to crack away. It was a twisted moment, anything but romantic, and yet it was so touching for them, both coming to the same conclusion at once, their real natures spiraling into shades of pure ecstasy as the glorious climax drew near, what would be a testament to both physical pleasures and their bond as two broken people in love, a love forged of several kinds.

She pulled Hope close, pulling him into a deeper kiss than ever before he continued to ravish her, thrusting so deep and fast and hard, sending her body soaring. She was so close, everything moving slowly except for them if it moved at all. They were alone in time together, only each other, only the passion, only them.

"I...I think I'm going to come, Light," Hope moaned into her mouth, his breath hot on her face as their kiss broke, his head retreating down to peck at her neck.

"So am I. Let's come together, please."

They got their wish. Their orgasm was perfect in its synergy, Lightning crying out in utter ecstasy as Hope thrust in and buried himself to the hilt inside her. Her pussy clutched down on his cock just as he began to spray his thick, white load inside her. They screamed in unison as their bodies locked into perfect harmony, shivering against each other before eventually crumpling to the floor, Hope still buried in her as their combined juices leaked out, his cock flaccid and smaller, but he didn't take it out. He nuzzled against her breasts as they lay there.

"So...what we now?" Lightning finally asked. "I want to say we're just lovers, but I don't think we can pretend any longer. Are we more than lovers? Are we even that?"

"We..." Hope sighed, looking up at the older woman. "We're us. You're my lover. And my mother. And my best friend. Let's not try to figure out what we are, let's just embrace whatever it is and spend the rest of our lives together. Be my mother when I need to be held, be my lover when the holding turns into something more, and be my mother again when you scream my name. This is too complex to be one thing or the other."

Lightning laughed a little and held him closer. "So you don't feel awkward about having sex with mommy every night?"

"That was some of the best sex we've ever had, mom," the last word came off his lips prolonged and heavy with emphasis. "If anything, let's just say it's kinky, get back on that bed, and do it again."

Lightning brushed aside a tear, pretended to sniffle, and said nostalgicly, "They grow up so fast." Then shared a laugh with Hope as they climbed back onto the bed.

They knew what they were, and they were fine with it.

…...

It's probably fluffier than it should have been, but even with all the complexes, I still wanted to portray their relationship positively, albeit a bit dysfunctional. For contrast, I may write a fluffy, well-adjusted Hope/Lightning fic that's heavier on the smut.


End file.
